


Hollywood: Behind the scenes of Moviewatch

by Kaiwi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Bisexual Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Body Paint, Confused Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, I am scared to post this, I lack a Beta, Inspired by Rule34, Lena "Tracer" Oxton-centric, Multi, Widowmaker goes FUCKING IN, Widowmaker uses it for scenes, Yeah I sometimes look at porn. Fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiwi/pseuds/Kaiwi
Summary: Overwatch is in the progress of filming.In this universe, all your favourite characters are actors and actresses.Lena Oxton, a prominent actress of the cast comes to head with Amélie Lacroix, a rising superstar hailing from France.AND THEY FUCKING HATE EACH OTHER.What happens next is something she never expected in her wildest dreams. (Okay but for real, we all know this is going to happen because I'm the author.)I suck at summaries, please check it out?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I refrained from posting this for days, every time a new idea or an adjustment seemed necessary.
> 
> These days I'm honestly tempted to write in 1st person for Lena as she is the character i tend to focus on in most of my stories. It seems to come a bit more naturally, given that I've read many novels in my days as a teen that was written in such a format.
> 
> Third person limited comes off awkwardly at times but I've decided to stick with it. 
> 
> Please if any of you could give feedback concerning on how to write emotions, particularly Showing, not telling, I'd appreciate it heaps.
> 
> These days I feel like I've lost track of my writing, from structure to general flow. It feels like a mess personally. I appreciate any and all feedback, tips and links to resources.
> 
> But above all else, I hope y'all enjoy this little project. I didn't want to end it on a cliffhanger but...4k Words and I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the work!

Lena stumbled out of the bedroom. Wild-eyed and dishevelled. A thin veil of a white shirt hung from shoulders. Length spilled past her waist like a mock-shift dress. Cheeks flushed with ragged gasps spilling accompanying. Throat dry like sandpaper, each breath like a cat’s claw scraping against the inside. Lena scrambled to the kitchen for a glass of icy cold H2O, bare feet slapped the luxurious suite’s marble tiles.

Air swirled from behind. Muted feet tip toed off to the side. Amused puffs escaped through their thin and upturned nose.

Lena struggled to make her way to the sink. Dainty hands grasped at any object nearby to support her weight. Armchair, standing lamp and couch. Lengthy thighs throbbed from exertion, exhausted. Milky and unblemished knees buckled.

Nearly a whole minute passed. Lena slammed down the glass of liquid. Throat on fire as the icy fluids replenished. Life returned to her tired form. Staring into the stainless-steel sink, focused upon a bead of soapy liquid clinging to the side, mind drifting off into the distance.

Before she could withdraw from the distant planes, slender yet potent arms seized her. Again, the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, rising tide of warmth that left her weak. Silent features of Lena Oxton indistinct and sunk to nothingness. Graceful digits tipped her chin back, pert lips leaned down and kissed, gentle at first and then with swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to, as the only steady object in a faint unsteady world. Insistent mouth parted Lena’s shaking lips, sending erratic shivers along her nerves, sensations completely alien, sensations she had never known ever before. And before she knew It, she had all but surrendered, melted into the impassioned kiss.

Her pillar retreated. French accent whispered in its wake, lush and intoxicating. “_Merci beaucoup_, if you feel the need... Do not hesitate to act upon it…Ms. Oxton.” Warm body heat of her co-star vanished. Lena collapsed onto the cool marbling underneath with a gentle flop, dainty hand nursed her sternum. Panting like her life depended on. It truly did.

Lena laid there for a few minutes. The tell-tale click of the suite’s bathroom door above and off to the left indicated their departure. Sweaty, sticky and practically butt-naked. Limbs heavy, like weighted lead.

How did it come to this?

Well that required time.

“Urgghh…!”

Lena turned and slapped onto her front, forehead pressed into the ground before pulling herself along with an elbow, limp legs trailing behind. Towards the centre of the living room, back to the furniture that supported her journey to the kitchen. Slowed to a halt between the couch and armchair, head rotating on a swivel, glancing about, clear. She reached underneath the white leather armchair’s mattress rummaged about.

Metal hoops brushed against the tip of her fingers, there it was! She snatched up the ridge of the diary and yanked it out revealing, a fluffy blue pen secured neat in the hoops of a A5 Leather Spiral Notebook.

Tired arm heaved onto the soft mattress, managing the climb, grunting as the arm burned from excess use. With visible effort she managed. Lena sunk into the leather armchair with an exhausted moan, blinking at the chandelier above with a slack jaw.

Fluffy side of the pen tapped the against the leather front.

Recounting the day...  
  
……………………………………………………………………………….

“….No…No…No..NO!” Tracer cried out, staring down at the crowd surrounding the defunct life-like robotic body. The height of the rooftop suddenly drew into focus, head spinning as every fibre of her sparked to life, the spandex clinging to her lithe form too tight…Heat flushed cheeks, tears welling behind doe-eyes. An urge took hold. She whirled onto the lilac figure clad in a tight spandex suit with a delicate sneer. Carefully maintained brows knitted into a frown. Muscles in her calves coiled like a spring, bursting into a quick sprint, charging at with all her might. Lena decelerated at the last moment as they collided into each other.

Together they tumbled into the floor beneath the dark skies of King’s Row, the taller figure remained still as Tracer wrestled with her. A gaseous noise erupted midst their grunts and growls as they neared the rooftop edge. ‘PSHFT’ She dismissed it and slammed both hands onto the ground beside Widowmaker’s head, bracing herself away from the steep drop.

“WHY?!” Tracer’s eyes fixated against the amber gold eyes and demanded. Her eyes squeezed shut, averting away from only to return, leaning in, eyebrows raising up in desperation. “Why…Would you do this?!”

“Auuooh…Hahahaa…”

Widowmaker lifted her head, lips curling upward in a rare smile golden honeyed eyes flicked down and back up to drink in the sight in full. Relishing in their victory over. A hint of cruel arousal decorated their pretty features.

Tracer recoiled, eyes wide inspecting their fine features, at a loss of words. It was there she realised, the night had been lost. She had lost.

_Widowmaker _had _won._

The quiet hum of an aerial transport vehicle erupted from behind.

She turned around in time for the bright lights mounted on its sleek underbody cast upon them. Without warning, a hand seized a collar and tugged close. Fright gripped her lungs, the tiny sausage sandwich in her stomach turned to lead.

“Ugh!” Tracer yelped, eyes snapped in their sockets to Widowmaker. They were close…Too close!

“Adieu, chérie”

Widow’s voice, low and husky.

Tracer’s eyes widened, a pressure exerted itself onto her back as they tugged towards. She lurched forward, over the edge! Wind whistled past her ear as they fell together and then a quiet snapping noise in the distance. The grappling hook!? Suddenly they swung, Tracer closest to the wall realised too late…Widow slammed her into the brick with their knee, crushing the contraption around her chest and driving the air out of her lungs. _That was on purpose...!_

Her head slumped, eyes fluttering shut…Before collapsing into the cushioning below and tumbled gracefully onto her side. Motionless….

“Kuh…Kuh” Tracer clutched the brick ground, pushing herself up weakly with shaky limbs. “Ah---!” A line of pain shot up her arm, right hand darting out to the side to steady herself. Head hung, defeated. Pondering when the air would return to her lungs.

“AAAAND CUT!”

A thundering applause rang out gathering in momentum quickly.

“Excellent! EXCELLENT! That was something else!”

Lena wheezed and released a pent-up sigh, the clout of faux emotion dispelling with the breath. The chubby director with his salt and pepper stubble rushed up the ladder to offer a helping hand. She accepted gracefully. A kind but overzealous man. “Thanks.” She rasped and flashed her trademark beam, hopping on the spot and testing her limbs. That was a mistake, her world began to spin, strength sapped from her limbs, sternum throbbing in protest and vision clouding.

“Fantastic Lena, absolutely fantastic—Oh and there she is…Our other star! Amélie Lacroix, you are every bit the actress they promised!” He beamed, releasing Lena and rushing over to seize their hand, pumping up and down. Only to be received coldly, the elegant hand yanked away and dismissed him with a wave. _‘What a bitch. Sucks up when she necessary…’_

But that only served to milk further praise. “Method…Absolutely method! I love it!” He paused to glance at his wristwatch, “Lunch break everyone! Off to lunch we go!”

A content sigh escaped most of the crew, dispersing quickly into the background. The shuffled off to accumulate the vast array of catered foods for the multicultural cast and crew.

Lena collapsed back to the ground, the cool floor soothing her body. Gods, she felt fatigued and weak.

Amélie strutted off to the side, pivoting on the spot to climb down the ladders. Ample derriere swayed side to side…Lena caught the director’s gaze lingering for a split second to long. The French woman glanced towards Lena, gaze lingering promptly bobbing out of sight. Lena swore a smirk tweaked at their lips.

_‘Yep…On purpose, that bitch!’_

Hand raised up to cover the smirk, exchanging a knowing look. The tickle in her chest intensified as he deepened into a tomato.

“Lenaaa! Come on! I gotcha’ favourite!”

Lena snapped to the source of the voice, lips pushed together into a curious pout. She crawled over to the side of the rooftop, tacos?! She scanned the thin crowd for the petite Asian figure. Hana Song waved off to the side from the lengthy canteen tables and benches set out for the various members of cast and crew.

A warm flutter of affection for the Asian superstar brimmed in her chest. Personally, a huge fan of her work, especially the recent remake of 200-pound beauty that she featured in as the protagonist. Hana’s fame was limited in the west, but Lena knew without a shred of doubt, it would explode. ‘_She’s a good one!’_

Talented actress, avid gamer in real life and songstress? The whole package. Even without the added boon as a songstress, she found it difficult to argue against the perfect method cast. To cap it off, Hana possessed a reputation in her home country that would draw many fans.

“Be right there!” Lena leapt onto her feet and called back, a surge of energy reinvigorated her limbs. With unrivalled agility she bolted down the ladder, hopping over various cushioning mattresses, slipping past the stubby director and dashing towards afternoon salvation.

Hana giggled at her enthusiasm, gesturing down to the plate piled high with various hard-shell tacos, ranging from steak, pulled pork and fish. “I just nabbed two of eac—Oof!” Lena cut her off with a crushing hug.

“You’re the best!” Lena chippered, sliding into the bench eagerly nodding her greetings to the various other Co-Stars. She noted the Shimada brothers, Gerard and Emily were absent. Last she heard, their schedules clashed with filming this week. Gerard and Emily, no lack of surprise there. The two only ever appeared for cameo appearances only, it was rather fun filming the implied lesbian scene. Awkward but fun in no small part due to their preferences.

Winston remained in his costume bar the ape head. Tanned with a scruffy black beard. He was stocky, cute out of his oversized suit.

“Hey Jesse! Winston! Jack! Angela!”

She crammed a fish taco into her maw without waiting for a reply. Their greetings rang back eagerly, except for Jack. He stared off to the side with shoulders rolled forward, lips curling downward and lost in thought.

Unable to help but inquire. Lips worked around the length of the hard pulled-pork taco, hand covering to shield their eyes from the sight. Brow quirked. “What’s wrong with him?!”

Hana collapsed into the bench besides, plucking up the chopsticks with natural grace. A piece of kimchi secured between the two metal sticks, “He’s just upset that Gabriel is a touch more method than he is.”

Lena’s duck lips and furrowed brows elicited a response from the Swiss woman seated across from and beside the male in question.

“Gabe is making him sleep in another room and refuses to…”

Angela leaned in, palm facing towards Jack, fingers upright as if to shield her voice from. Sapphire eyes flicked back and forth from the source of gossip. Evident amusement tweaked at the corner of her lips. “Touch him.”

Lena frowned, leaning off to the side over Hana’s lap, tracing the Jack’s sombre gaze. Across the lengthy studio warehouse nestled together cosily, the members of Talon personnel consumed their meals. ‘_Y’can really tell who wears the pants in this relationship!’_

Gabriel Reyes adorned in his trademark black cloak and skull mask pulled off to the side, forking in large mouthfuls of rice. Engaged in pleasant conversation with Akande Ogundimu and…The enigmatic actress from earlier.

She found herself pondering what their big deal was. As if that _woman_ believed herself to be better than the rest of them. Not so much as an apology either for winding her earlier.

“Hola!”

A cheerful accented voice disrupted Lena’s investigation.

“Oh hey, Olivia! I heard you hurt yourself in training, are you alright?” Hana asked, leaning back slightly to accommodate Lena straightening up. She peered up in time to catch the Korean’s expression of genuine concern.

Greetings rang from across the table. Still she wasn’t one to be rude, she flashed a wide beam at.

The Mexico-born actress renown for her roles as a techy nerd with a quick wit, Olivia Colomar. They returned the gesture before answering the Korean.

“Just a light sprain on the ankle, don’t you worry chica!” Olivia waved a hand in of their face. Presumably the foot in question lifted into the air, sideways. “See? Just fine.” Their mischievous eyes inspected the table, settling on the tacos with a slight quirk of a brow. “No lime?”

Lena blinked back, presenting a daft smile. “S’cuse me?” Before a response came, the medium-built Mexican leaned over and squeezed a lime wedge across her plate. Droplets of its juice seeped in between the crusts. The occasional splurt splattered the area surrounding the plastic plate and onto the thin but sturdy aluminium. Heart sinking at the sight.

She leapt to her feet, hands clutching the side of her skull, massaging upward and screeched. “My TACOS! NOOOO!” Like a woman scorned, stalking towards the one responsible. Expression sour like the fruit drizzled over her precious food. “What was that for!?”

Olivia’s feet scrambled backwards and gently pushed the air in front of her in a calming motion. Nearly colliding with a nearby boom-mic operator whom stared on cluelessly. Once mischievous expression now alarmed. “Ms. Oxton, it’s authentic…! ”

Lena paused mid-stride, unable to discern if they were pulling her leg. She felt her hands ball into a fist and release, over and over. Without a noise, a hand seized from behind and crammed a beef taco against her lips. Instinctively she parted her lips and bit down, the zest of the lime prominent in the bite it….It accentuated the delicate but masterful combination of flavours, steak, fresh red onion, tomato and cilantro. Eyes rolled upward in their sockets, hand darting up to cup the taco and cram in further, she was in bliss… _“I’ve tasted of Ambrosia~”_

Barely able to make out the sigh of relief whilst lost in her sensory delight. The last she could recall was their lofted brows drop back down into neutral, taut shoulders slumping in relief.

A voice called from afar. Just white noise to Lena’s ears as she crunched down on the mouthful, falling backwards into the taller Korean’s grasp. She groaned, “Sho…Good…..Fanksh!”

“Akande’s calling, must get going! I don’t think they really care about fraternizing.”

And with that, Olivia skipped off, presumably to the trio sat reclusively.

“Who set up that stupid rule anyway?” Lena heard Hana query as she dragged her back to the bench. ‘_Now that I think about it…I’ve never been kept away from fellow co-stars until this film.’_

Winston smacked his lips, finishing up the burrito by sucking on his fingers to pick up any stray juices and sauce. “I don’t believe it was ever a rule, just discouraged. The studio wanted to keep our performances as authentic as possible.”

Angela shrugged, adding with her light motherly tone. “I’ve wandered over a few times. They’re nice people, Amélie especially.” She sipped at her thermos, full of cocoa as Lena recalled being offered numerous times in the past.  
  
The sentence sunk in. She thought, Huh? Amélie as in Widowmaker? Nice? Impossible…

“Wait wot?!”

Angela blinked back. Puzzled by her confusion. “Something the matter?”

“Amélie? _Nice?_” Lena demanded, pointing a finger towards the Talon table’s general direction. Her sternum throbbed again, likely bruising from the blow earlier.

“Yes?”

Hana chipped in, agreeing with the Swiss actress. “She is quite nice, I remember the first week of filming, she offered a delicate piece of cake, scrumptious!”

Lena spluttered, looking about incredulously. Her mind raced, attempting to recall every interaction with the actress in question. She struggled to find the vocabulary to describe her outrage, exclaiming. “WHERE WAS MY PIECE OF CAKE?”

A sudden eerie sensation crawled down her back. She recoiled, ‘_Blimey, was I too loud?’ _Lena dared to sneak a peek to the side, as expected….Every pair of eyes within a ten metre radius were upon her.

She collapsed back into her seat. The sudden motion summoned forth slight nausea, ducking further down to hide her flushing features. Away from the rest of the world.

Angela rubbed at the back of her neck, uncomfortable by the outburst. “Maybe…Well I do treat their sprains and bruises from time to time. You know…Since I did practice medicine nearly a decade ago.”

Hana yelped, flipping her phone around and gesturing to the screen towards Angela. “Whoa, check it out. The amount of likes and followers have skyrocketed.”

“I told ya it would, you’re fantastic Han-“

A hand waved in her face to cut off, the phone facing her now. The video on repeat played, Amélie running through the shooting range with an assault rifle of some model, clearing the targets with expert precision.

“She’s nearly got as many likes as you, Lena!”

Lena’s hand balled into a fist. It shook against the table a little. The description of the video clearly targeted at her. ‘_If only chérie had my aim…Mondatta might’ve lived.’_

She clonked her chin on the canteen table, frustrated. Gabriel and Akande remained friendly enough to at least engage in occasional small talk when off set but Amélie? From a stranger’s perspective, harmless promotion for the film.

But Lena knew better…It was a snipe at her lack of activity on social media and implication that she was being lazy on set. Amélie was insinuating she, Lena Oxton was _lazy and unmotivated._

Her! A Top 15 highest-earning actress listed in Forbes! Nothing less than blood, sweat and tears to reach her level of fame. And Amélie spat on that.

That woman held nothing but contempt for her, she was sure of it! Now they were coming to smear her good name, fame and reputation.

Jack grumbled, fist banging on the table.

Lena’s lower body jolted in her seat, the corner of her eyes caught everyone else staring at the source of her fright. Together they burst into snickers, enough to catch the weary veteran’s attention.

“What? What’s so funny?” Gruff, almost gravelly voice rumbled, addressing the group for the first time all day. Taut and withdrawn, arms crossing and hunching over. Silver eyebrows knitted into a sharp V.

Having exchanged glances with the rest, she replied in unison. “Nothing!”

He grunted, likely suspecting something off by the group reaction. But didn’t push it. Ever the one to bottle it all up.

“Hm. They never seemed to care that I dined with you guys.” Hana’s expression shot up, coming to the realisation months late.

Jack mumbled, jerking a thumb towards Lena. “She’s a fan of your work. Wouldn’t stop going on about it.”

“You’re into Korean drama’s, Lena?”

Without a word she nodded to reply.

Hana clutched her chest, mouth gaping open. “I…I….” Speechless, she bounced on the spot, balls of her feet tapping the floor excitedly. “I’m so flattered! I had absolutely no idea YOU were a fan!”

Lena winced as Hana tackled into her side, squeezing, dainty hands grasped at her spandex suit, securing a grip around. Her colleagues hid their smirks and snickers from across the table. They already heard the countless times she went on about Hana’s talents.

The excitement was short lived.

A disruptive call for attention rang throughout the gigantic warehouse.

“Everyone! EVERYONE! I have news, the showers are currently going under maintenance. This means all cast and crew will have to utilise the communal gym showers for this afternoon!”

An unceremonious groan rang out. With a combined crew of over forty, it would be a lengthy process. To top it off, without any real privacy.

Half-tempted to skip a shower until she returned to her hotel…But the short drive whilst sweaty and sticky didn’t appeal. Not. One. Bit.

Lena resolved herself. She’d just wait for everyone else to finish up.

Off in the distance, she caught Amélie shaking her head and gently kicking the bench.

……………………………………………

𝟟:𝟛𝟘PM

The digital clock plastered across her phone screen reminded. Filming had finished up nearly two hours ago but the rush for the showers died down just minutes ago. Hand wiped at the sweat above her brow, droplets of sweat swept away and flicked against the gym floor. Shoulder rolled against the heavy squat bar amidst the hospital white gymnasium, decorated with various dark coloured exercise mats and assorted equipment.

“See ya later, Lena!”

Head turned in time to catch long dreadlocks vanishing past the door. She knew of only one person whom wielded such a haircut. Lucio Dos Santos, DJ extraordinaire. Colour her surprised when he made the transition to acting.

“Later Lucio! Rest up well!” Lena called over, plucky and bright as ever.

“Will do!” They called back with a laugh.

With a soft grunt, the actress ducked down to retrieve her phone. Thighs burned in protest at the action, tipping by the waist instead to facilitate the motion. “Ooft…I may have gone too hard today…”

She staggered about, struggling to maintain balance, settling into a shaky side to side waddle. Legs burning. Lungs burning. Past the numerous treadmills and rowing machines, towards the showers. The stairs proved to be a monumental villain, clinging to the railing as she proceeded down step by step like a baby whose legs still too short.

Thirty whole minutes, to traverse through two floors and locker room before arriving in the empty communal showers. Lena collapsed against the wooden bench surrounded by various lockers. Seat too hard for the exhausted figure. Head tilted back, panting, eyes squeezed shut. Her chest burned. Maybe it was best if she called an uber…She couldn’t drive with her legs in this shape. Let alone walk. _“I’m…Ha…Going…Ha…To…ha…Die!”_

“Oh? I wasn’t aware you were still here, Ms. Oxton.”

Quiet and smoky.

Lena peered through an eye whilst her chest heaved up and down. Sticky and sweaty, in no mood to deal with gawkers. But this was no ordinary gawker.

Amélie Lacroix. In the flesh. With eerily smoothness she shrugged out of the trademark orchid and violet costume, dropping to the brown tiled floors underneath. They flashed a tiny smirk. Ample, near gravity-defying bosom and slender curves almost mirroring an hour glass in full display, enough to draw a hitch in Lena’s breath.

Lena lied, ‘_Blimey! She’s not beautiful, she’s not. She’s…She’s a witch!’ _

A fluffy tiramisu coloured towel draped over their arm.

“It seems we will be sharing the facilities this evening, chérie”

Lena grunted back sarcastically, “Yeah…Yeah..” Hand rose to wave away the comment, rising to her feet unsteadily. _“Bet you were banging a studio exec…Plonker.”_

“Sorry? What was that?”

Lena paused midst wiggle, attempting to undress out of her plain white crop top and sky-blue short shorts with great effort. Heart skipped a beat; did she say that out loud? She wormed her way free of the top, fluffy fringe bobbing across her eyes with knitted eyebrows.

Nearly a whole head difference in height.

She pivoted on a foot and stumbled away from. Content to leave it at that. A warm lilac hand seized her right wrist as it swung backward. The vice-like grip, sparked a wince to twitch across her expression.

Amélie’s lips curled up cruelly.

With a yank and slight wrestle, she wriggled free of and grasped her wrist, massaging it. What a grip…! “Look, you have your shower and I’ll have mine, we can keep out of each other’s hair, business as usual. Kay?” Lena glowered.

“Business as usual?” Amélie inquired softly. As if searching for answers. Hand pressed just above her chest, “Ms. Oxton, if business as usual involves unwarranted rude remarks and offhanded comments about how I opt to dispense _my_ pâtissiers. Then I will have to decline.”

A finger jabbed up to chest height. A pause. She had heard her outburst...! “Drop the act Lacroix! You don’t like me and I sure as hell don’t like you. Nobody else is here, so you can just take this fake politeness—” She thrust a fist into the air. “And cram it!”

Amélie’s forehead tilted forward, looming over. E expression darkened, corner of their lips tightened and tilted upward asymmetrically. Unable to help but notice the taut skin around their eyes. Exuding danger.

‘_Uh oh.’_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the opening for a couple of reasons.
> 
> 1\. I feel pressured to release a chapter since it has been over a week.
> 
> 2\. Constant rewrites, originally I was going to detail the entire evening leading up to the naughty naughty...But honestly? When I played it in my head whilst in bed, it was kinda...Boring and dull.
> 
> 3\. My only Beta is myself. It takes time to review my work with a critical eye, honestly reading it can be extremely boring and cringe in my opinion without a few days away from.
> 
> 4\. I've shelved away 1400 words possibly for another chapter when we revisit the rest of the evening. (I'm not quite sure yet if it is at all necessary to revisit this part. I may skip this area and maybe flash forward to the moment where they...Uh, reconcile?
> 
> 5\. I wanted to keep it as interesting as possible. 
> 
> 6\. Let me know what you think please! The initial support was overwhelmingly positive, so I really don't want to disappoint :<
> 
> Please understand that Lena isn't as happy-go-lucky in this story. I've tried to write her as such but in a more grounded setting, someone still prone to moodswings, insecurities and...Well...Lots of Insecurities. ALSO! Anyone have suggestions for a name? Lets say....Lena's little sister! THEORETICALLY. ;) 
> 
> Not promising anything!
> 
> I totally am.

Amélie stalked toward yet by some impossible feat, head remaining perfectly level, gliding forward.

Lena instinctively backpedalled, mirroring each step, pupils narrowing as if fleeing from the expanding whites of her eyes. Shallow puffs of air escaped through her nostrils, brushing over sweat stained freckled flesh. Their shadow cast over, looming.

A chill chased up her spine.

“W-What are you doing?”

‘_Plap!’_

Liquid splashed the underside of her feet; the liquid grew cooler. Lena snapped around, inspecting her surroundings, backed into the centre of the female gym shower partitions.

Water dripped from a leaky faucet, the splash echoing throughout to her sensitive ears. Goosebumps rose on her neck.

Big mistake.

Warmth radiated onto her front, whirling around in time to find herself mere centimetres apart from the French actress. Lena’s breath hitched, voice catching in her throat mid-gasp, _‘When did--?’_

_Ice._

Her back jerked away, head whipping to the source, mini glazed ceramic tiles. Only to collide into Amélie. Taut, firm and hot. Heat radiated from like a blazing fire hidden behind a furnace. She was trapped. Between a rock and a hard place.

Doe-eyes hesitantly crept to the front, the rest of her body following two steps behind, the gaze of her arch-nemesis drilling into her soul. Her pulse pounded against eardrums.

A lilac arm reached past her waist. Lena flinched. _Squick!_

Lukewarm water blasted into the back of her scalp, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, anticipating a follow-up.

Nothing.

Lena dared to peek up; their gaze continued to drill into. Unblinking, glaring, haunting. She tried to speak but paralysis set in.

Beneath the spray of rising heat, too hot for her tastes. Lilac body paint mixed to teal, melting away to reveal the impeccably flawless epidermis underneath, how fitting for the Victoria’s secret model turned actress.

Lena’s shoulders hunched up, stomach stirring, a rising urge to shove the blessed figure before her. Muscles knotted in her forearms, trembling ever so slightly.

Their quiet voice disrupted, mellow and cool despite the visage presented. “What do you have to be pouting about?”

She recoiled, unaware until now, lower jaw jutting forward into an unseemly pout. Silence was the response given.

“Ahh, so the rumours are true. You possess a grudge against moi.”

“Yeah!? So, what if I do!?” Lena snarked, regaining control of herself, the fear earlier melting away in lieu of a bubbling cauldron of syrupy stew of black tar-like substance. Rage? Not exactly. She couldn’t place her finger on it, not quite yet.

“Perhaps the internet is a trustworthy source indeed.” Amélie remarked, elegant limb lifting into the air to palm her own forehead, shaking with shut eyes. A sigh escaped as if disappointed.

The flames under the cauldron flickered. What the heck is she going on about, like hell she the time or liberty to browse online….

Peppermint green with a splash of honeyed amber, Lena realised as she scowled up. The eye contacts weren’t there. How was it possible for one person to be blessed with such gifts—

_Ah…That was it. Jealousy._

Her hands ball into fists.

Amélie lowered their arm, head tilting back to level parallel to the floor, peering down at her shorter stature. Quite literally, she looked down their nose at. “Tell me, Ms. Oxton. Do you know why I left the modelling industry?” A single brow lofted.

“Cause you’re withering with age?” The retort sharp, enough to scrunch the bridge of her nose. Her filter removed. Vengeful and mean. She stood her ground, deep hazelnut brown.

A brow lofted in response. “You will have to do better than that to hurt me, girl.” Amélie muscled forward, pinning Lena against the ceramic tiles, nonchalantly staring. 

The snark wavered. For the firm reminder of physical prowess reminded just how helpless she was if it were to become physical. A rush of helplessness. Shoulders stiffened anticipating a strike. But nothing came.

Slowly but surely. Shoulders dropped.

And the squirming began.

Sub-zero temperatures against her back and the impossibly warm naked woman in front, scorn wavering momentarily. A whole minute ticked by under the thousands of heated drops, their bewitching dark eggplant locks drenched and flattened against oval features with two thin ropey strands over each brow like long wet worms. The face paint melted away like a mask to reveal an alabaster fair visage underneath.

“Geh—Awf!”

The steely gaze from earlier had all but vanished. “To think I used to admire you...”

Lena flinched, heart double tapping, those words stung deep. A sore twinge emanated from the core of the organ, tendrils spreading throughout, like a poison working its way through. Cheeks flushed with heat.

And why wasn’t she worthy of admiration!? She worked hard! She didn’t have talent like the rest. Pushed herself to the brink of death to reach the peak. Thousands of hours, tens of thousands of hours of practice in front of a mirror, attending classes and seminars whilst working multiple part-time jobs to support the career choice. An orphan whom clawed her way up in a cruel and uncaring world. She took care of what was left of her family. All by herself. **_ALL BY HER FUCKING SELF._**

Her jaw worked up and down silently, seething at the former model, trembling where she stood. Searching for the right words. Nothing coherent came forth. A vein throbbed in the corner of her visage, pulsating violently.

The pressure against her front lightened eventually fading as Amélie retreated away with a scoff. A victorious smirk decorated their sharp features. Shapely derriere on full display as they sauntered their way out, a hint of bounce in their step.

“Perhaps for the best, chérie.”

What? Lena had no idea what she meant by that. The violent pulsating vein settled thrown off.

Alone. Once again.

Her knees gave out. Hands balled into fists and bashed against the tiles underneath repeatedly. Amélie’s words repeated in her skull. Ricocheting in her head. Over and over. It bothered her they were taller. It bothered her that she failed to retort. It bothered her that she even cared for their opinion. **Everything bothered her**.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Lena stared down at the A5 notebook, thumb tracing over the burgundy leather front. Ballpoint pen pressed into the corner of the page. ’_Hmn…Yeah that seemed about right. I wanted to give her a good walloping right then and there!’_

Satisfied.

Wait a minute.

No, she wasn’t! She still didn’t completely understand what that woman meant. A frown teased her eyebrows. Hand waved the air, ‘_Bah…’_

Fingers pinched the page, turning it and flipping the journal onto the other side, revealing a blank sheet. The fatigue from earlier waned, if her self-judgement was at all reliable. She could at least function without aid.

_‘Now…Where was I? Oh right--’_

A squeak disturbed her inner monologue. Lena bolted upright in the cushioned seat, gasping as the bathroom door swung inward.

She threw herself to the ground with the journal hugged to her chest, scrambling to recap the pen and fumbling to tuck it back—'_Ah screw it! Not enough time!’_

The cool pale marble flooring an afterthought in her mind.

Lena thrust her left arm under the cushion of the armchair and crammed the journal back in with a wince. ‘_I hope I didn’t crease any pages!’_

Limbs flailed about, scrambling to pull herself back up but the throbbing reminder in her calves slowed her. At least she managed to pick up onto her feet in time for the beautiful actress to step out, rubbing a towel through their lengthy locks.

Gaze transfixed on the slender but toned forearm, sliding along to the perfectly proportioned palm and fingers. Amélie worked agilely to secure the towel into a bun after a moment she pat the side to check its stability.

Content, their arms lowered.

Lena’s focus shifted mid-way to their fair visage. Pondered over the matter if they still had make-up on, surely…Not? But…How were they so fair?

Amélie turned their gaze towards, expression slightly irate. Mouth working.

God those full lips…Pink and moist.

Heat flushed through the cool ambient temperature. Boy it was becoming hot in here; did she change the thermostat?

“Lena…LENA! What is wrong with you? Oh the nerve..!”

The dazed actress jolted on the spot, flinching a little. Lena felt the spot by her lips burn, where they had wiped off some cake earlier. Then her collarbone…Followed by the length of her neck and jaw. Every place those lips perfect lips had graced. “H-Huh? Wh-What’s the matter now?”

“Espèce d’idiot…!” Amélie muttered, breaking gaze away to shake her head.

“HEY! I might not understand French but that sure sounded like you were calling me an idiot!”

Lena indignant, pointing accusingly. _‘Gee, just when I thought we were getting along…! Such a bitch!”_

Those beautiful peppermint green amber irises returned to stare down on approach. Promptly reminded,

She was shorter.

And inferior…

“That is because, you were staring like some drooling idiot.” Amélie’s answer curt, arms swinging in perfect synchronisation with each stride. A practiced motion, no doubt from the years of working catwalks.

Ooft. Her ego was really being worked over by her co-star…

They approached from an off-angle, around the lengthy couch.

“W-Well…I-I was just” Lena started, fighting the urge to backpedal away from.

Amélie silenced her, leaning in close and cupping their cheek, a growing smirk decorated the corner of their lips.

Scented vanilla wafted over.

“I distinctly recall inviting you to join me. Ms. Oxton. ” The silky touch slid down, fingertips lingering against cheekbone. They leaned in further, inches away…Scrutinizing? A purr escaped, “Like sesame seeds on a peach…”

Ah—Not again…My knees are…I thought I was..! Lena’s inner monologue cut short

She jerked away with all her willpower, cheeks flushing a shade of strawberry, clambering away from around the vanilla couch opposite. Towards the now vacant bathroom. “I-I-I don’t like sharing b-bathrooms!”

The excuse was shite. She knew it. Amélie knew it. The whole world probably knew it.

Bathroom door slammed shut behind her.

Phew…A moment longer and she shuddered at the thought._ To be at their mercy…._

_Again._

The scent of vanilla lingered. She recoiled, Amélie’s slender frame flashed into her mind’s eye.

It was difficult to argue that it wasn’t pleasant in their embrace. However, a part of her still resented Amélie despite their…Extremely recent attempt at mending their mutual misunderstanding. If anything, Lena needed time. Time to mull things over. More importantly…

Time to relax.

Lena waddled over to the bath like a penguin amidst the marble white room, careful to avoid the wet footprints left behind. Shower cubicle to the right, closest to the door, toilet just ahead, sink to the left and bath tub at the end.

Perfectly matching.

Legs wobbled dangerously into a squat, arms mimicking as she braced against the sides lowering into the bathtub, groaning as an all too familiar throbbing sensation shot up the back of her calves. Fingers grasped the knob for hot water and twisted, repeating for the cold knob until perfect.

The tempered liquid seeped into her lower body, soothing the daily aches of running, tumbling and other exercises involved in her profession. As the depth rose to chest height, Lena reached over and twisted. Finally.

She sank back, the sheer length of the tub allowed her to float as if in a pool. Ears sank beneath the depths, blunting out any noise from outside, muscles unknitting slowly.

Ahh…

Just what she needed…

The warmth of the water wrapped her in a half-cocoon. Snug and undisturbed.

Dried sweat, dirt and grime cleansed, parting from.

Nothing beat being squeaky clean!

…………………………………………………………………………………

Amélie glanced about, searching around the room for something to do. An inexplicable calm and delight lingered. Something that had been lacking for months. The indescribable discontent and discomfort built from the first week since Overwatch.

The urge to break out into dance nearly overwhelmed even without her ballet shoes.

How odd…

Her gaze rested onto the sleek fridge. A smile tugged at her lips, recalling their conversation earlier…

‘_Minute on the lips, lifetime on the hips…’_

Nearly earned her a plate of china cracking into the side of her skull.

_Worth it._

Even if she didn’t receive a piece of cake…It was rather amusing watching Lena stuff her face full of cake just to spite her.

The way their cheeks bulged out like a squirrel’s was…Endearing.

Although at the time she felt nothing but disdain.

Amélie sauntered over and grasped the handle, tugging the door free to reveal the medium-sized yellow, brown cake box, retrieving it to set on the counter. She searched the kitchen drawers for a knife, eventually discovering a tiny butter knife.

_‘Better than nothing.’_

Finger hooked underneath the lid and drew up. A simple round naked birthday cake decorated with various berries on top. Various chunks ripped off and damaged from earlier no doubt, recalling the way they had viciously assaulted the delicate delight.

Odd…

_‘Was it her birthday? I don’t recall a celebration as of recent. Bah, she probably didn’t invite me because of our feud.’_

This could be a start to better relations. Amélie cut a neat slice and plated it, one side of the dessert still bore the scars.

A bit late to worry about germs now.

With that she returned the cake box to its rightful place and retreated to the couches.

Without a spare change of clothes, naked was the only way to go. Lest she cared to garb herself in sweat-tainted shirts and pants...The cold never bothered her anyway.

The couch cushioned her collapse whilst she nibbled at the birthday cake. Feet propped up against the glass coffee table, a content sigh escaping. A puzzled frown creased her features, the cake wasn’t as sweat or creamy as anticipated…If anything…Dry and stale. Cheap.

It didn’t add up. Millionaire actress buying cheap goods? Surely there was a limit to frugality…

Amélie dispensed the plate onto the coffee table, jaw finishing off the tiny nibble in her mouth with an unsatisfied grunt. Boredom slowly overtook.

Gaze searched around for anything to do.

A lack of magazines. A television mounted across from without a remote.

Ah! Television.

But…No remote?

A finger rose into the air, tapping her chin. ‘_Well…When my remote disappears either Kujo has hidden it or...’_

Fallen under the cushion of the couches!

Now….If she recalled correctly. Lena stood just a few centimetres away from earlier to the right of the armchair and left of where she sat right now. Amélie guessed that was the most likely area to yield results.

She sank to a knee, hand stuffing into the sides of the armchair’s cushions and ran along- Nothing in the back. Fingers ran down the sides.

Something smooth with a rigid and tapering end brushed against her fingertips.

‘_Hmnn?'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some feedback if possible!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> Here it is!
> 
> Chapter 3.
> 
> Sorry for the delay. Work has been crazy and not going to lie, it has impacted my motivation to continue. I think my updates going forth will have to be a touch irregular, regrettably. :'(
> 
> Still! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Enough to perhaps leave a kudos? A comment!? Those are the best :D.
> 
> They really do help! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!

Amélie Lacroix’s brows furrowed down, like a rabbit burrowing.

Rooted to the ground.

Shell-shocked.

And above all else...Puzzled.

Under the silver-grey sky at the entrance of the filming warehouse studio, the bustle of activity within and neighbours barely drowned out the start of their conversation, the hushed but intense snarl of a response obscured.

Lena Oxton stalked off into the distance, fingernails digging deep into palms, knuckles pointed downward by the side of each respective thigh. Hunched forward and teeth gnashing. Pale white sneakers splashing into the puddles of muddy water. Absolutely livid.

Truth be told, Amélie hadn’t expected that reaction.

It was just light teasing.

Honest.

Who knew Lena would react by blowing up?

For a minute, she almost believed the dummy bomb was about to be used as a weapon. To cave her skull in maybe.

For the first time in a long time, she was alarmed. Sure, the words were crass and inappropriate. But the venomous tone and hurt behind it…That was what hit hardest.

She knew from the journal, Lena was no different than the average adult. Bar the exceptional talent for acting. Caring, optimistic and friendly. But beneath all that?

Insecure. Lena possessed an inferiority complex.

With whom?

Well…

Amélie turned to the source, studying the cheerful near mirror-image of the creature, happily bantering with fellow co-stars.

Folly on her for not piecing the resemblance together earlier.

Blissfully ignorant to the hurtful words exchanged. Blissfully unaware she was now mayhap the root of the pair’s problems.

…………………………………………

Eight months of back and forth snips. Eight months of mutual distaste. Eight months of behind the scene hostility.

But before that…?

Years of envy and admiration.

As fate would have it, mutually. At first.

That journal certainly held many secrets. _Too many._ At least for a single hour’s seating. It just so happened she landed upon the journal entry of their first meeting. Pure chance.

Of course, she didn’t mean to pry but curiosity bested her. How often did one get to peek into an arch-nemesis’s most intimate thoughts?

Never.

Amélie had stashed the journal back where she found it. In time to catch Lena stepping out of the bathroom with tomato cheeks, having forgotten to bring in a fresh change of underwear and clothes. A slight oversight that could be blamed on fatigue. Lena tried to scuttle and weave away to the bedroom like a cornered puppy, being shorter and a touch more agile offered little advantage.

At least compared to her grace and elegant balance.

And now? Nearly seven hours later

Nestled in bed together. Sort of.

It was hard not to stare.

Lena was still none the wiser.

Amélie felt a flutter in her chest.

Head propped on an arm, blinking lazily, gazing at the sleeping figure huddled up on their side. Thick and pillowy vanilla duvet draped just above her breasts, left arm clamped the sheets to. Warm and snug from the chest below. A soothing cool almost chilly from above.

Wrapped around a full-length body pillow lay Lena ‘Tracer’ Oxton. Superstar and England’s own sweetheart. Having starred in various films over the years, well into the double digits despite her tender age of 26. Almost a decade age difference.

Together they rested in the ample bedroom of the luxury suite fine carpet covered most of the hospital white marble underneath. Thankfully the thick cream coloured curtains shielded the pathetic morning light with only a thin beam of grey that shone against where her thigh would be. Amélie fiddled with the illuminated area of the duvet, pinching and twisting. Upper row of incisors kneading lower lips idly as she reflected on recent events.

Admittedly during the beginning of her film career, Amélie was an avid fan of Lena’s work. Often up late into the night, reviewing, studying their facial expression, body language and other ticks. All in an effort, to improve her own craft, to add to her repertoire. To make the transition from model to actress.

Stomach twisted briefly. Fighting back the overwhelming urge to flail.

The bed sunk and shifted in weight without warning.

Lena was wiggling and burrowing further in her sleep, “Mmngh… Amélie…”

Amélie leaned in curiosity piqued. A dream perhaps? Perhaps a wet one. About time she began warming up.

“…Rhymes with smelly…Heh…Heh.”

Amélie’s lips pursed into a thin line, tearing her gaze away with a sordid expression.

Or not.

It was about time to get up anyway.

………………………………………………………………

Thick early morning mist obscured the wide concrete pathway flanked by immense industrial sized warehouses sat side by side, it was hard to measure how far apart they were from each other by sight but Amélie guessed it was around thirty metres.

The filming studio location would have been a familiar sight if it hadn’t been for the fact it looked like someone had taken an eraser and began to remove the landscape above and beyond her line of sight; like they’d suffered crisis of perfectionism.

If not for the time displayed across her direly low charge mobile, Amélie could have believed it to be the time of the day. The morning air, cool and crisp; it stung the corner of her eyes.

And to top it off.

Late.

Amélie elevated the lipstick stained cardboard cup up to her lips to take a sip at the now lukewarm cappuccino as she strolled through the never-ending pathway. Hints of cinnamon and caramel decorated her senses. She attempted to hide the growing smirk away from the hazy world.

But not as late as somebody else she knew.

The digital display of her iPhone served as a perfect reminder.

They were scheduled to film in the afternoon. Right after Jesse and Ashe’s reunion scene. Amélie reasoned the consequences likely minimal. A harmless prank. Payback.

Plus, what were the odds that she’d oversleep by more than a couple of hours? An alarm merely served as a reminder to the body’s internal clock.

According to Gabriel, Lena enjoyed pranks at least from his intimate knowledge with his husband, Morrison. Given her propensity to perpetrate tomfooleries against. He relayed it in passing, something she recalled in the moment.

Oddly enough it seemed to fit both her character in the movie’s universe and out. It was no secret the studio type-casted a few roles, but ‘Tracer’ possessed a lack of distinction between actress and character.

As far as Amélie knew, Lena had never been apart of the Royal Air Force or possessed the abilities to pilot a plane.

“_At worst, I’ll just apologise.”_

Amélie’s reflection and pondering came to a pause disturbed by the indistinct bickering up ahead by the assigned Overwatch film warehouse. As she drew closer the voices grew in volume and clarity.

Within a second the mist broke and revealed the pair responsible. She grinded to a halt and observed.

A tall burly security guard with a light beer gut parked in front of the industrial filming warehouse garage doors amidst the dreary scenery. A painted yellow number sat in the corner of the building, 41. He loomed over a hooded figure, bright red leash strung down from her hip and attached to a fluffy welsh corgi playfully circling around their legs.

The entrance barely visible even as she approached closer. Like a wall of mist erected in front, separating the outside world from the inner workings and film of Overwatch.

Amélie recognised the male but struggled to recall his name. A friendly enough fellow but judging by the sour expression his patience was likely wearing thin. Regardless he maintained a stern but polite enough tone with a neutral American accent.

“For the last time, ma’am. I can’t let you in, this is a visitor’s pass. Which allows limited access, the film sets are off-limits. You require a special pass unless invited by a member of the cast or director.” He explained with crossed arms, horseshoe moustache wobbling.

“But that’s what I’ve been saying. My sister is part of the cast!” British accent prominent. Cockney. The hooded figure exclaimed, feminine and lively. They threw their arms into the air, exasperated. As if sensing their owner’s displeasure, the playful corgi lowered its stance, as if ready to pounce onto the security guard. Sharp fangs bared. Quickly untangling itself from around the pair of legs and leapt towards—Only to be yanked back by the leash.

The heavy-set man barely flinched. But his wary gaze flicked downward.

Amélie’s eyes narrowed and lips pursed, searching the youthful flower before her. Surely...? No…Maybe it was a gut feeling but it felt like they knew each other.

“Did you receive a personal invitation?” He countered, chin jutting forward. From the corner of his eyes he spotted the actress, blinking rapidly twice and drawing his shoulders back and chest pushed forth.

Amélie continued to observe, returning the look with a faint tweak of her lips. He was enamoured, how…Expected.

The hoodie fell away revealing peanut mocha shoulder length hair with a single azure streak down the side. Young, barely mid-twenties if she had to guess. Slim hands wrestled against the length of the leash, worn sneakers scrambling against the low friction wet concrete. “W-Well..Heel! HEEL! I’m so sorry!” Sharp upturned nose dipped up and down as she flicked between the corgi and guard. “S-She doesn’t know I’m—”

He uncrossed an arm and raised it into the air, waving it dismissively. “Then I cannot allow you to enter without explicit permission. “ Forehead prominently pointed.

“They’re with me.” Amélie blurted without warning or realising herself. It took a moment to register, and only when the pair of eyes fell upon her. Long eyelashes fluttered twice. Without realising it herself, she had drawn close to the pair.

The nagging doubt in the back of her mind continued to burrow.

“Yes, as I was saying—Wha Ms. Lacroix?” The security guard addressed with furrowed brows, bewildered. He flicked between the two women. “Are you sure? Do you know this woman?”

The stranger’s jaw dropped, and grip slackened. Without warning she jerked towards the studio as the stubby legged canine leapt and sank its teeth into the sable black leather dress shoes only to be shaken off with a violent kick and disgruntled grumble. The animal fell back and licked its lips, aggression momentarily halted, nursing itself for but a second before the growling returned.

“OW! You dumb mutt! Ge’ off!”

His crossed arms and wide stance gave way, bouncing in a circle and clutching his toes through the shoe and turned a smouldering glare onto the animal and human duo. The outburst seemed to draw little attention from within the warehouse, the sight likely obscured by the mist. Difficult to make out any movement from behind the little arena of mist surrounding them.

Amélie fought back a titter. Curling her lips inward slightly.

Any further attempt to assault security, constrained by the woman scooping the tangerine and pillow white corgi up into their firm embrace. “Muffin! Settle! Apologise to the big man!” She fell silent, glossy lips forming into a small pout.

An unsure flickering frown teased her expression. Round muddy brown eyes twitched towards but halted half-way. Half bobbing. “Err, I mean! The nice and kind man!”

The dog refused to heed the command. Quiet muttering followed, a few sprinkles of self-reprimand. “Stupid! Stupid Emma, stupid!” It didn’t last long, she snapped back to the present. Twisting away from.

It was hard not to laugh. But somehow, she managed to suppress it.

“SETTLE!” The young woman apparently named ‘Emma’ squeezed the puppy until it began squirming before finally settling. It turned its attention to and began lapping at their cheek. Little padded feet pawing at their neck and chin. “Ahuh—Haha, stop, stop! You’re going to ruin…Akh…” A concerned gaze shot in Amélie’s direction.

The playful sight did little to stymie his outrage.

And if Amélie’s eyes did not deceive her…Either they had rosy cheeks or…

“I’ll take responsibility.” Amélie flashed a gentle smile addressing the disgruntled and vexed male. Tilting back to meet his eyeline, reaching forward to brush her delicate fingers against his forearms. “I’ll handle this, thank you. It’s early, please go enjoy a cup of morning coffee.”

His gaze snapped away from, chest puffing upward. Ready to yell in the spur of the moment. Only to meet Amélie’s sweet half-lidded eyes, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, corner of her mouth tweaked upward. Her best, ‘Get-out-of-Jail card possible.’

He composed himself, foot lowering to the ground again and standing at attention, cleared his throat into a raised fist. Broad shoulders rolled back, and boots clicked together. Like a soldier prior to a parade.

“Ahem…Very well, if Miss Lacroix is willing to stick her neck out.” He announced with closed eyes. Peering out of one as he finished and added, “If you require anything. Such as the removal of a mutt, please do not hesi—”

“Nooho! Muffin wouldn’t hurt a fly! He’s a darling. He goes where I go!” She exclaimed in protest, twisting clinging desperately to the happily panting pooch. Whom remained blissfully oblivious to his surroundings. An exaggerated pout followed from the slim hipster.

Before either could respond, Muffin paused and sniffed the air. Leaning to the side at first in his owner’s grasp, closer and closer he drew towards Amélie. A whine pierced through, Muffin began squirming insistently until slipping free. Outstretched hands grabbed at the air after him.

“Muffin! Wot’s gotten into you!?”

Muffin landed on its feet with surprising grace, tongue hanging out and panting. It spun in a small circle and raised onto its hind legs, bouncing towards Amélie and settled against her blueberry jeans. Gaze soft, brows smooth and tongue lolling.

Bent by the hip she inspected the furry animal whom cocked his head. Wet, leathery paws rested against, the cool morning dew seeped in. Their eyes met for a moment, his head ducked down and nuzzled against her thigh. Only to have her attention snatched away by a harsh comment.

“Bah…Dirty mutt.” He muttered, waving dismissively. Distaste stricken across her features, with a final glance to ensure Amélie’s comfort he hobbled off into the warehouse. Disappearing behind the mist.

“Arf!”

“Aren’t you just the cutest...!” Amélie cooed at the doe brown eyes whining up at as he sniffed about her. Ticklish. She reached down to run long digits through the mane. Despite the weather, feathery and smooth to touch. Well-groomed. Muffin exploded into a frenzy of activity, leaping back and bounding in a circle. As if reuniting with a long-lost friend.

“Blimey…Muffin normally hates strangers!”

Odd.

Amélie’s brows furrowed. There was that butterfly and backflipping sensation again in her stomach. Muffin reminded of someone familiar.

But she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. Not quite yet. The thought continued to nag at her. A blank light cream coloured face came to.

“U-Uhm…”

Amélie blinked thrice. She straightened up and sat back onto the heels of black and white laceless casual shoes. Emma had pivoted front on towards her. Right knee bent forward, angling diagonally towards., toes tapped the smoothened concrete. The friendly enough stranger curled a lock of hair around their index finger, matching muddy hazelnut eyes flicked about without focus, occasionally meeting. Free hand twitching back and forth in a jerking motion as if undecided.

Right nostril decorated with a silver ring piercing. Flax seed freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and faded towards high cheek bones. Shoulder length hair parted in the middle to frame oval features, cheeks stretching up into a hesitant smile at the searching gaze.

_Cute. Incroyablement. _

Amélie shifted the cooling cup of coffee to her non-dominant left. Allowing a moment to pass, curious to see if they would take the initiative. Fighting back a smirk she extended her right hand.

“Amélie Lacroix. Enchanté.”

Much to her amusement Emma merely nodded in awe whilst murmuring dreamily.

_BANG BANG! _

More ammunition discharged followed by an audible explosion. The noise was thankfully muffled distance but the explosion, enough to elicit a wince from Amélie.

High-pitched scream penetrated through the mist, emanating from within the studio warehouse. She snapped towards the source, eyes narrowing. Did something--? Oh right. The reunion scene.

“Mnhm…Yes you are…~”

The response drew her focus back.

Emma stared back wide-eyed and gaping. Unperturbed by the clamor Eventually the pair of hazelnut eyes flicked down to the elegant digits. Recoiling an inch off the floor and spluttering.

“O-Oh shoot, b-blimey! I mean…!” Hand darted to her sky-blue jeans and brushing frantically. Raised up to eye level for quick inspection. Emma bending forward by the hip and clasped her hand. “S-Sorry! If my hands are—”

She cut off, throat working as she swallowed.

Amélie tilted her head to the side, brow quirking in unison.

_‘What an odd girl.’_

“…Big fan!” Emma finished. Brows raised, cheeks taut and a shaky grin.

Unable to hide her amusement any longer. Painted lips stretching into a wide grin and dipped her head in response. Taking a step closer, worried that they might fall at the angle they weren’t bent, Amélie queried, “Thank you. And you are?”

Emma’s hand, the same that had clasped hers now clapped onto their forehead, tilting back and stared up into the grey skies. “D’oh! Stupid! Stupid!” Still bent by the hip. Leaning back until straight and recomposed.

Muffin scuttled back, sitting onto their hind legs beside Emma and panting up at. Content to flick its naïve gaze back and forth.

A fist clapped to her chest. Cheerful if not slightly high-strung.

“Je m’apelle Emma! Emma…” The rosy cheeked young woman paused, leaning in, raised both hands up to respective sides of her cheeks and gestured by spreading her fingers wide, mimicking an explosion.

The quirked brow received a companion.

She hadn’t expected that. Amélie shifted her weight across to the other side of her hip.

And yet they were far from finished it seemed. They were really milking it for effect. 

**“…Oxton!” **

The shock was nearly enough to make her laugh.

………………………………………………………………………………….


	4. Christmas Special/Ramble/Pointless/Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!
> 
> Sorry its been a while since I've written, life has been so busy.
> 
> Originally I intended to post this before christmas but...Well, its been a busy month! I haven't had time to write at all. 
> 
> I fear time being short and the rush of things has lead this to be a rather....I dunno chapter.
> 
> NOTE: This piece is set into the future of the story. Like, a bit much so. This is not a true chapter sequel to the current story thus far.
> 
> It's just for a bit of fluff but since it's set in the same universe I decided to post it in this story. 
> 
> As always, leave a kudos if you enjoyed. But a comment would be far more appreciated! I do ever so much enjoy interacting with you guys D:
> 
> Other than that. I hope you've all had a Merry Christmas and a preemptive Happy New Years!

Christmas Special

“Hello! Helllooo! Gooood evening! It’s our last show before Christmas!” A flamboyantly dressed and aged gentleman introduced on stage. Red blazer, a vivid contrast to his black shirt with flourishes of cantaloupe and milk swirls. Rhythmic music blared in the background at a comfortable volume

His introduction followed with jokes of various politicians from England and other nations. After a few minutes the topic shifted, hands clasped together with a bright smile.

“Listen, we could talk about Christmas for hours. But I’m here with something perhaps even more exciting!” The orange suited gentleman paused for effect with wide expectant eyes, ”From Overwatch; Origin stories, We’re be joined by.. Amélie Lacroix!”

A thundering applause erupted from the crowd.

Intensifying as a stylish figure garbed in a long violet dress entered from the shadows sauntered onto stage. They arrived at a halt beside the colourfully vermillion cherry couches and raised their arm into their air in greeting before turning in time to greet the host with a kiss on each cheek.

“Look at you, Look at you. Hello! Hello! Merry Christmas, come in!” He sidestepped to the side and waved the French actress towards the couch.

“Good to see you. Thank you, Graham.” Amélie answered with a disarming smile. Legs expertly manoeuvred into the couch, seating herself regally as she waited for the host to finish introducing fellow guests.

By the end, the award-winning rising star was seated between two men.

Elsewhere, Lena shuffled on her seat without tearing her gaze away from the screen. Backing up into it further, left eyelid blinking shut as a brush tickled it. Idly fiddling the hem of her t-shirt and brushing her palm against jeans. Casual dress for a casual prank.

“Ms. Oxton. Y-You’re on in ten. Is everything okay?” A timid voice squeaked from her doorway.

Turning towards the voice, light hazel eyes glued to the screen and replied. “Everything’s fine! Thanks luv!”

“O-Okay, j-just call if you need anything! Coffee, water, d-drink!” The man stammered out as he excused himself.

Without any further distractions the English A-Lister returned her full attention to the screen.

Graham had seated himself into his trademark chair beside the lengthy couch. Popping off various questions about the men’s recent activities. After their responses he turned his endearing beam to the French star and pointed with various cue cards, “Amélie, look at you and your beef cake sandwich!”

The room burst into laughter.

Puzzled, the actress’s attention shifted to her fellow guest for a split second, expression brightening as understanding dawned upon. Head tilted back slightly as s a pleasant chortle escaped, riding along with the joke as she brought her elegant hands down onto each of their knees and squeezed with a teasing look to the crowd.

“I thought you were talking about my dress for a second! In my mind, I was like this isn’t the colour of—Oohh!”

Robert, to her left embellished, “You have two hunks astride you!”

Renew bouts of laughter followed.

With Graham’s skillful wordplay the show continued, “Speaking of hunks, what’s it like to work beside Akande Ogundimu and a regular on this, Gabriel Reyes?” He gestured to the near TV host screen. On cue a trailer played, a scene with the three antagonists in debate with snippets of action from the upcoming movie.

After the reveal of the premiere date. December 25th and impressive applause settled down.

Amélie answered with a faint smile that broadened with each passing second, “Well as you know, Akande is an extremely devoted method actor. So, you know as you would. Sometimes when you’re in the gym or walking by his trailer throughout the day…You can hear him yelling about world domination and the occasional breaking of furniture.” The tip of her tongue licked the front of her upper lip as the crowd burst into amusement.

Following up she leaned in towards Graham and continued, “Gabe’s the same, except he yells about killing his husband and Overwatch. Hahaha!”

The screen clipped to an image of the couple with their arms around each posing for a photo. Jack Morrison wore a plain white T-shirt and slumped forward with tears in the corner of his eyes and clutching his stomach. Beside him stood Gabriel Reyes, glaring back as he stood besides, adorned with a terrible Christmas themed sweater completed with an outrageously sized bow tie over his sternum.

“And if you catch Gabriel at the right time after shooting, you’ll find him in his trailer receiving a mani-pedi!” Amélie burst into hysterics alongside the crowd and guests. “Hahahaha—hooh…But no really, they’re so amazing and dedicated to their craft, I am blessed with the opportunity to work beside such wonderful people.”

Ian interjected from Amélie’s right, a venerable actor possessing the honour of being knighted by the queen herself. Winter-white hair and goatee with timeworn features. “Oh—Oh--Oh, I believe you have the pleasure of working beside my good friend, Lena? Lena Oxton?”

“M-M-Miss Oxton! Get in position please!”

“Oh—Got it!” Lena leapt to her feet and scrambled towards the door with arms stretched forward. Like a child to sweets. Bouncing on a foot in the dark hallway as she hurried. Within seconds the conversation from the studio was audible as she placed herself in the shadows of the entrance, lurking quietly for her moment to strike.

Truth be told, the producers had made it a note to obscure her presence tonight from everyone but the host.

The reason…?

Because Lena loved pranks.

And requested it.

Amélie’s sweet honeyed voice in person…Heat rushed to her cheeks.

“…….actually hated each other at first….Mhm, believe it or not. There was a real on-going feud between us for the first year of filming.”

A quiet grunt followed. She thought to herself. “_Must be nice leaving out the part where it was your fault!”_

Graham and Ian reacted in unison. “Really?!”

They exchanged a look to the crowd’s evident amusement.

“Oh yes. Well, the studio encouraged us to remain with our…Groups, you know the factions related in the film to try to promote an authentic emotion. So, depending on your character and how…it was written they would try to discourage out of character interaction. But really by half-way they just gave up. Olivia was just bouncing between the groups like the brat she was and, Angela. Sweet dear, Mercy. She is just the sweetest. Always bringing blueberry muffins.”

From Lena’s perspective she couldn’t make out what they did, but it drew laughter.

“But anyway, yes. Lena and I did not get along.” Amélie paused before continuing, “Which was a huge shame because I was like…A diehard fan of hers. I absolutely adored her films. But now, now we’re okay. All the love to that girl. Please don’t tell her. It’ll go to her head.”

“YOU JUST SAID IT ON NATIONAL TELEVISION!” Graham exclaimed humorously.

More laughter.

“Oh dear…Can we cut that out? Please?” Faux exasperation perhaps? It was hard to tell from where she stood.

Without a word, Graham shot a look towards her direction.

Lena received it with a thumbs up.

The experienced host quickly diverted the conversation to recent rumours. Particularly a crowd favourite, one that buzzed about on the Twittersphere and magazine covers the past few months. “Speaking of love, now…Ian, you and Lena have been great friends over many years. You wouldn’t by any chance know anything of her whereabouts right now would you? We tried to call her in today.”

It was hard to make out her friends’ expression with only the back of his head in sight.

“Hmn?”

“Do you have any news of Lena’s current status?”

“Well…Well I would have no idea!” He turned the crowd. “We mostly talk about work and other on-goings of life. I fear her only love is acting and pranks, she runs herself ragged the latter! The only time you can book her in are the holidays! And that’s cloudy with a heavy chance of thunderstorms.”

Chuckles rippled throughout.

Amélie stiffened and sat up straighter.

The time was now.

Graham gestured to the actress with an expectant expression. “How bout you, Ms. Lacroix?”

Meanwhile Lena crept forward, lowering to a crouch as she did. Pulse racing like a freight train, heart jackhammering in her chest. Tongue tip brushing over upper lip.

Motioning to the audience for quiet. Like a lion stalking its prey, pussyfooting behind the couches with a smile tweaking at her cheeks. Leaning forward until a ruler’s length apart.

“W-What? Oh Graham, I could only guess.” Amélie reached for her wine glass and sipped, allowing a brief gap to whet her throat. With drink still in hand, she continued “However…I will say that I know her quite well by now. Any time we’re within vicinity. Its…It’s like I’ve developed a Spidey sense for her practical—”

“AMELIE!” Lena seized the woman in front by their shoulders from behind and yelled.

Perfect. Simple perfection. Forever immortalised by television.

They jumped to their feet with a silent yelp, white wine splashing across face and down the side across their lap as the glass slipped from their grasp and miraculously remained intact.

Adrenaline surged through veins, a euphoric rush that ended in a flutter of butterflies in her tummy.

Deafening cheers and guffaws.

Lena took a bow, waving to the audience and quickly slipped around to greet the men in order from host, Ian and Rob before finally turning to Amélie. She spread her arms and offered a tentative grin.

Received with a warm expression, they embraced. The faint smell of lavender and white wine wafted up her nose. Amélie held onto both shoulders as they parted their nostrils flared., a sudden tightness gripped Lena.

The English actress blinked.

The tightness vanished, in its wake, a light throbbing around her shoulders. Was…She angry?

Puzzled, she dismissed it with a wave and moved to sit down beside. Only to be yanked forward, lips mashing against each other with the pash. Lena’s surroundings turned into a buzz of white noise. Stars dancing around her eyes.

Cries of joy and excitement trickled back in.

They broke apart and Amélie firmly if not forcefully sat her beside.

Lena stared into the crowd, slightly starstruck.

The rest of talk show flew by, brain shifted into autopilot. Barely remembering a word, she said. But she did recall ratting out her partner as a freak. All the whilst fanning herself jokingly. And the glare received.

Well…That was one way to go public.

Graham’s voice queried jovially, “So Lena, Christmas is coming and we’re all dying to know. What are you going to be up to? Another prank perhaps? I hear you’ve begun targeting your fellow co-star Hana Song as well!”

“H-Huh? Oh…Uhh… I dun-!”

Before she could finish, Amélie cut in as an arm looped around and tugged. Spiky hair crumpling against the even surface of her cheek. “She’ll be coming to Chateau Lacroix. My home in France.”

‘Oooooooh’ The crowd rippled.

Blinking rapidly, Lena tilted her head back slightly and murmured with innocent saucer-like gaze. “I am?”

If not for the sensitive clip-on microphone…

The French actress met her gaze, half-lidded. “You are.”

“Oh…I guess I am then!” And with that Lena addressed the crowd with a great blameless beam

…………………………………………………..

“Heads or tails?”

“Mnnnn...Do we have to do this?!” Lena searched their expression with her famous Oxton doe eyes. Nothing. Not even a flicker of remorse. “Urghhh, fine…Tails!”

The coin went up.

And down into the warm ivory palm, clapping onto the back top of smooth forearm.

The hand withdrew, revealing the result.

_Heads._

She set the coin down beside onto the glass coffee table.

Lena clutched the package to her chest, half-tempted to flee back into the snowy winter behind. Pout formed over her chapsticked lips. “W-What about your parents?”

“They’re celebrating it with family friends.” Amélie’s hand extended forward with an expectant quirk, “Heads. Hand it over~”

…………………………………………………

Light polished hickory dowel adorned with copious amounts of syrup feathers flicked side to side, swatting away at the imperceptible particles of dust, dirt and other specks of debris. Toned forearms taut as they carried the motion. Leaning by the hips, ebony high heels clicked against the patterned cream and deep indigo large marble tiles. The stilettos did not offer great balance.,

Lena straightened up and inspected the two-door cabinet amidst the impressive kitchen and secondary dining hall. Spotless. A satisfied nod. But a dreary tone accompanied, “Wicked…”

Her hips ached. If she didn’t know any better, they were probably bruised.

Three hours. She’d been at it for THREE. DAMN. HOURS. And this was Amélie’s idea of a fun Christmas!?

Slaving away at HER nice, fancy chateau?

Scandalous barely scraped the surface.

Here Amélie had, a universally acclaimed actress. Thrice nominated and twice winner. Chanel’s face for handbags.

Working. As. A. Maid.

A French one.

The worst part?

She had confiscated her mobile device.

“All in an effort to promote proper work ethic” Lena’s eyes rolled up to the sky as she mimicked mockingly to nobody.

Outrageous.

Since the British comedy chat show. Lena had been a nervous wreck. The thought of visiting the Lacroix residence and going public with their relationship implied a meeting with Amélie’s parents.

She spent the night before the flight going over her lines. Like one would before a dress rehearsal or a scene. Then at the very last minute, received a text to bring a costume. Apparently under the pretence of family tradition.

_“That was clearly bullshit! I’m bloody chuffed!”_

Before she could continue down this line of thought, a tiny concentrated nippy breeze brushed against her exposed outer and inner thighs, eliciting a shiver from the top of her bottom and up to the base of her skull. Unable to help but wince and glanced off to the side, searching for the source. Gaze washed over the rustic stone interior.

Winter morning apricot glow spilled through the parted curtains and clear glass

Eventually settling upon the culprit, the sliding door to the Grand Chateau Lacroix’s elevated cobblestone veranda remained ever to slightly parted. Without a word, Lena wobbled over with arms outstretched to the side.

_“Steady does it…”_

_Click!_

_“Thank god…Now, what else do I—"_

Shuffling around on the spot, only to be greeted by the sight of the spotted black and white kitchen counter, ladled with various fresh and canned foods, flour and other necessities frosted over the side of their respective bowls.

The area had only two entrances which lead to different parts of the chateau, one to the main dining and the other to one of the many wide hallways leading to various rooms. Having been barred from entering the kitchen and main dining hall all morning whilst being set to cleaning duty.

Altogether, they had less than fifteen minutes of interaction since her arrival.

To call her mood foul….

Lena mumbled to herself, repeating the earlier motion as she crossed one leg over the other and practically hobbled. “Cleaning is fun…. Cleaning. Is. Fun…!”

Coming to a steady halt before the counter, Lena stared at the mess of food stuffs with an empty gaze. The hickory groaned. Whilst a groan clawed at her own throat. Golden crust shaped in the form of an impressive bird slid into view over the muddle, neatly ironed grey sleeves followed, dusted with white powder which she could only presume to be flour.

Ambrosial scent of lemon, butter, garlic, thyme and peppercorn wafted over. Then the finisher…Fresh, home-made gravy. A clean one-two to her tastebuds. Immediately her mouth began to water. Amidst the silence Lena could make out audible swallowing from none other than herself.

“The turkey is ready, Lena.” The quiet voice announced, sickly sweet and proud.

Lena stared at the immense bird for a moment longer, meeting the French woman’s gaze, brows furrowing suspiciously. Annoyance subsiding. This always happened… At least as of late. Her weight shifted back slightly as she asked, raising the fluffy end of the duster into the air besides, “I-It’s a bit large innit? I mean…I-It’s just the two of us?”

Hope crept in, only a sliver however. Maybe it may have all been worth it?

A smirk crept across the painted lips. The iron skillet came down to rest against the thick wooden cutting board. Freeing elegant digits to brush against the dirtied sleeves. Amélie remained silent throughout the activity.

An unsettling sensation tickled her exposed back. Like a spider crawling down.

“How talented you are, Ms. Oxton. A French maid whom speaks English so very well.”

“Wh…What are…Are you serious?!?” Lena spluttered, shooting an odd look, shoulder rolling lopsidedly attempting to dispel the sensation. Searching into the peppermint amber eyes.

“I do believe that is what you are being employed for.” Amélie stated matter-of-factly, gliding to the left, momentarily disappearing behind the pillar and circling around the kitchen counter to reveal herself in full. The black boater hat remained perfectly atop former model’s shapely head, the frilly apron fell away to reveal her costume in full. A tight-fitting graphite tailored jacket with a matching lengthy skirt that obscured her long legs with only her ankles in sight. Yet somehow highlighted the slim hourglass figure.

An English nanny.

Lena’s breath caught in her chest. Lips thinning into a line. Thrusting the duster at, the fluffy feathers inches away from her co-stars’ pointed nose. Thumb pressed against the wooden handle tight enough to discolour the fleshy pink tips of her digit to pale white. She demanded an answer.

“Why are wearing these bloody costumes anyway luv!? This is…This is just weird! If you wanted your big fancy mansion cleaned, why din’t you just hire a real maid!? Not like you’re strapped for dosh…”

Lena paused and kicked at nothing, nearly falling over in the process. She added with a grumble. “Wasn’t even that much to do anyway…”

Amélie sauntered on over, the top button of her jacket bulged against her bust.

It did originally belong to Lena.

_“W-What’s she up to? Oh no…I know that look in her eye!”_

Amélie’s graceful fingers hooked underneath the intricately designed frills and bowtie of Lena’s choker. Thumb brushed over the design. Inspecting for any flaws and imperfections. Smooth nail brushed against her throat, leaving a trail of heat.

Lena held still, chin tilted upward slightly. Breathe hitched in her throat.

There were three things that became crystal clear since they began dating. High libido, penchant for revenge and sharp memory.

“It looks wonderful…I could eat you up right now.” Amélie murmured. Leaning back with a smirk and continuing. “Besides. You’ll understand in due time.

“H-Huh?”

“Be a dear and bring the turkey over to the main dining table.” The digits slipped free.

Hesitantly Lena wobbled past, squeaking as a sharp crack rang through the air and elicited a jolt into the air. Hands darted to cover her rear. The heat in her cheeks intensified. As did her rear.

As she rounded the kitchen counter and hoisted up the hefty skillet with both hands and shuffled carefully to the back towards the mentioned dining hall, commenting. “Awright…I dun get it by the way! Why’d you bar me from the kitchen and dining hall only to make me carry—"

Eyes bulged from their sockets. The shock nearly swept the balance out from underneath her. But with the pièce de résistance in her grasp, Lena wobbled on the spot with shaky legs.

“W-W-W-W-WHOA!”

Like a ghost, Amélie glided into her peripherals to loop her arm around. The source of her pride revealed. Wide smile adorned the actress’s smug features.

It would have been a shame to call it a mere main dining hall. If anything, a feasting hall. Like a scene from a film set. Fine royal crimson carpet covered the floor, intricately patterned walls and paintings of various unrecognizable individuals adorned the hall. A hearth stood at the far end behind an almost throne-like seat.

The table width alone spanned wider than the length of Lena’s arms and chest combined. And on top of it laid out a lavish array of different traditional foods, not just for one meal. But for all meals. From where she stood…

Smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, pate, parfait and pickles. Various salads…. Even prawn cocktails! Lena recalled gorging herself on thick slices of the fatty fish in the mornings of other Christmas parties.

Yet there laid even more variety. Side dishes and trimmings. Pigs in a blanket, parsnips, honey-roasted carrots to name a few.

Saucers laden with various contents lined the entire length of the table.

And the pies…The various. Deliciously aromatic fruity pies.

Immense glasses of fruit Trifles.

Festive drinks in bright colours accompanied each plate.

Lena’s jaw slackened. The weight against her wrists lifted.

The madwoman had managed to accomplish all this in a span of three hours? It was like they had googled every traditional dish known to man and recreated it for the sake of it.

Grand? No…That was too tame…Monolithic. Perhaps.

Amélie meandered over to the far end of the table and set it down. Taking a moment to appreciate her own work with a once over. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“W-W-Wha—There’s NO WAY we’re—Are you—Are we? What—”

A ringing nose trickled into her ears as her world finetuned to another level of sharpness.

Amidst her minor panic attack, a distant hiss and squeak. But paid no heed to it. It was irrelevant to the matter at hand.

Lena stumbled back to the doorway and collapsed against it. Chest heaving shallow breaths as she questioned, “W-We’re going to eat a-all this?”

Amélie made her way over, peering down at. “That is correct.”

“B-But that’s like…Waaaaaay—” Lena emphasized, stretching her arms to the side. “Too much!”

Amélie merely shrugged. “Well…We may have some leftovers..”

“Some? SOME? HELLLOOOOO. Earth to Amélie! That’s enough for like THREE famili…….es.” Understanding dawned upon, she could feel the colour drain from her features. “Y-YOU LIED TO ME! Y-YOUR PARENTS ARE COMING OVER!”

Her girlfriend’s features tweaked again, like their facial muscles wrestled against each other. The corner of their tender lips curled upward. “I did not. As I have already said, they will be spending it elsewhere.”

“B-But you said we would spend it together!”

And then it happened.

Lena recoiled, within her mind. Various images played back.

The scene on top of the roof.

Tackling her into the ground.

Amélie underneath, straddled.

Cruel sadistic laughter, leering up at…Success.

But that was all for a movie….

Except the French actress wasn’t acting and loomed over.

Her accent thickened.

“But I never said we would be alone, Chérie~”

And as if on cue…The doorbell chimed, echoing throughout the halls.

The blood in her veins turned to ice. Chilling to the bone.

“I think your sister and our colleagues have arrived. 2:30. On the dot.”

“MY CLOTHES!” Lena paused and stared up at the taunting leer widening. “Hoooohhhh…!!!! You—YOU SET ME UP!

“I wonder what our friends will think…” Amélie reached up to unbutton the costume, wriggling out of the jacket and grasping the straining shirt underneath. Tiny black buttons popping from the cheap string sewing.

Clocking her square in the forehead. By the time her gaze came to rest upon the woman whom she called girlfriend.

Amélie posed with left hand propped on respective hip, garbed in a v-shaped blueberry side-cut flounce dress. She asked mockingly, “You didn’t bring a spare change of clothes?”

Lena could only gawk as they scooped up the remains of the costume before looping their respective left arms together and tugged.

“I think we should go greet our guests now.”

……………………………………………………………………

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I really, really, REALLY hate you….”

“D’aww…Little Lena can dish it out but can’t take it?”

“I dun wanna talk to you. Hmph!”

“You’re welcome to find somewhere else to sleep.”

“……..”

“Go on, leave.”

“…”

“No? Let me hel—”

“Okay! Foine! I’m sorry!”

“Hmm..”

“S-Spoon?”

“So insolent.”

“Stop being cheeky luv! You already won, jeez.”

“…..Very well.”

“S-Stop touching my tummy like that!”

“Such a large bulge…Who knew you could fit so much into such a tiny body.”

“….Phrasin—Nngh.”

“Be good. Tonight, is my night.”

“…I’m gunna get you back for this!”

“And I look forward to it, Chérie.”

“…You’re lucky you’re gorgeous. G’night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

…………………………………………………………….


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after months of absence... An update! I'M SORRY D:
> 
> First I'd like to preface that I'm very much burnt out on writing. As you may well know, I'm horrible at being able to finish anything. Because I'm never pleased with the quality of my work. Please give me some motivation ;-;. Please critique/comment on the work if you have the time, it is appreciated insanely! Not going to lie, it also helps with motivation!
> 
> It's a short chapter. I really couldn't for the life of me think of what to add for this one. I've actually sat on this one for months because I wanted to add more content but couldn't think of a way to contribute meaningfully to the story. 
> 
> I've also adjusted my writing, once again. Please let me know if it's more favourable than the previous chapters as I've been reading a butt-ton of Webtoons recently and was inspired to come back because...I can't draw LOL.
> 
> With all that being said, I hope y'all enjoy this short chapter. Stay safe from Covid-19 and please wear a mask!

Humid warmth coated her body like a thin sheet. Yet her shoulder and arm remained exposed, a chill cool settled over. The only solace draped over a diagonal section of her forearm; the comfort that carried the rest of her body missed her wrist.

The top of her skull was propped up slightly by something soft, thinner than the length of her shoulder to neck. A sharp pinch had since taken its place in the base of her neck. Its presence elicited a quiet groan from.

Strange…The thin beam of light across her arm was warmer than usual.

Lena’s long lashes fluttered gently, batting away the thin seal of sleep before the back of her wrist rubbed away at the rest. She grumbled under her breath, “Hnngh…Wow, it sure is bright for this early in the morning...”

The morning lit bedroom offered feasible light for her to navigate the maze of wrinkles in her bedsheets for the familiar rounded rectangular object. She plucked it up and swung her legs over the side of the queen-sized bed, away from the thin beams of morning light. Rocking backward before utilising the momentum to upright herself.

Lena still slouched, shuffled towards the bathroom, a wide yawn decorated the short journey, “Aaaanhhh…” A frown creased her brows. She couldn’t recall the last time it had been this early. Strange, normally she would’ve been in a zombie-like state if she’d woken up early. Gone were the childhood days of waking up at dawn and the restless fidgeting that followed before breakfast. They were sorely missed when she had been young and full of energy.

As Lena came to a stop in front of the sink, she straightened up to inspect her reflection. “Wha--!?” Her palms slammed against the cabinet mounted mirror with enough force to rattle the hinges. She leaned in, head tilting off to the side and inspected. The young but seasoned actress squeezed into the side of the lacquered wood.

“_Chérie, I adore the way you…. squirm!” _

The memory of last night trickled in like a leaky faucet.

An audible gasp departed from her lips. Heat flushed her cheeks as flickers of last night played like a picture film. The naked French beauty straddling her to the bed, fingers buried in her crotch and working furiously. All of this played out in her head whilst she inspected the hickies decorating the side of her neck. Muttering quietly, “Oh boy…Today’s going to be one of those days, innit, Lena?”

A knot of worry began to form in the pit of her stomach, unable to recall the last time she applied make-up to cover up a mistake. Her mind swam. What if the sweat began to wash it off mid-filming? What if Amélie bought it up amidst their co-stars?

“Damn it… Amélie, you did this on purpose din’t you? Pompous French frog.” Lena cursed, flicking the cabinet open, mentally swatting the visage away with a vigorous shake of her head. Inside lay a small make-up kit, pricey skin-care products, cheap paracetamol and a razor. The latter two served their purpose effectively. Cheap paracetamol had come handy in the past…So she stuck to it out of habit. And the razor still gave her a baby-bottom smooth shave. That too became a habit.

With jerky taps the groggy actress dabbed at her neck, the knot in her stomach twisted further. The ivory-white powder offered a mismatch in contrast to her warm sand skin tone. From afar it looked odd…Bu t up close? It was downright obvious. Even for a man.

Lena wiggled her nose, releasing a sigh as she reached for the faucet. One more try…The water smudged with the powder, gluing to her fingers. When was the last time she had to do this? College? No…Surely there had been a time after? She wracked her mind.

Nothing. “_Hmph…Couldn’t have been that long! Maybe I’m just forgetful. Y..Yeah that’s it!”_

Hmm…If it wasn’t for the fact that it was her arch-nemesis, it would’ve been a genuine concern.

Lena froze. What the heck was she thinking? Did she just justify her own--?

Her eyes grew wide. Blinking twice at her own reflection. She shoved the thought away.

“To hell with this…” She flicked her fingers clean before wiping the rest against the sink’s edge. Maybe a scarf could hide it until the professionals could do something, if she was quick and sneaky about it, they could be persuaded to be quiet. So long as they didn’t believe it was with her co-star.

She stepped out the bathroom and glanced towards the kitchen. What if she made some breakfast with her spare time? Instead of wasting it trying to fix a mistake. After a couple of steps towards her bedroom, the idea of breakfast grew in appeal. Coming to a halt, Lena glanced between the two destinations and shuffled on the spot.

It was a rare luxury to even consider the notion of food before midday usually. She bit her lower lip and frowned.

“Ughhh!” The actress cursed her indecisiveness. An unnerving sense of urgency began to tweak at her nerves. She raised a palm up to her forehead and banged it against lightly with gritted teeth. “Stupid!” She berated herself, “Do I even have time?”

She hunched forward and walked over to the oven with hurried strides, peering at the electronic lines of the digital time-teller. Maybe there was enough time to bake something. Perhaps even a shepherd’s p--!

_‘**WHAT THE F@!)$&*!@)(#?!’**_

Lena’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

** _SCREEEEEECH!_ **

The sudden halt rocked her forward, forehead coming within an inch from banging into the steering wheel. Lena unclasped the seatbelt and exited, taking a final quick peek at the electronic stereo system as she stepped out.

An immediate breeze brushed against her voluminous hair, what little trickled through prickled her scalp. She swallowed; for a moment her feet refused to move. The moment was short-lived as a grunt built up in her throat and a light, but heated pricks decorated her shoulders and lower neck.

Lena spun on the spot and delved back into her convertible to fetch her sports bag in the passenger’s seat. Slinging it over her shoulder and securing the base where the straps and bag met with whitened knuckles, she hastened towards and down the paved floors of the sidewalk.

Her legs started off in a brisk walk, after a few seconds of scanning the distance, she slammed her eyes shut; they stung, likely from staring so intently at the roads. Relying on the memory of the scenery and familiarity of her daily routine for the past few months to navigate briefly to rest her eyes, the young actress muttered nonsensically under her breath intermittently.

Lena shifted about, in search for anything for release. But to her dismay, there was nothing that wouldn’t paint her as a weirdo if caught.

As she rounded a corner she came to a pause. If memory served her correctly—This would be the straightaway of gigantic warehouses, to which Overwatch filming studios would be located towards the end.

Lena peeked with her right eye.

** _Bingo._ **

Yeeuuup.

With each stride the walk began to evolve into a jog. Every fibre of muscle within buzzed. The perfectly tailored brows met into a sharp V-shape. Lena worked her arms in stride into a comfortable rhythm. Each metre covered; a step closer to throttling her sworn enemy. Her arch-nemesis. Her Shego to her Kim.

Lena gritted her teeth.

“**_ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!_**” Lena screeched; grinding to a halt and stomped the floor with elbows raised up to shoulder height repeatedly. Like a child denied candy. Unaware the outburst startled the few interspersed employees and guests that littered the studio grounds.

The young actress took a moment to compose herself, ignoring their puzzled looks and storming onward. With only a single train of thought driving her along. She raised her fist up to the stormy sky and shook it.

** _‘I’M GOING TO KILL YOU Amélie!’ _ **

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed me motivation D:<

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if at all possible!


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